Careful
by MisguidedGhostTwilighter
Summary: The little girl did as she was supposed to because if she was 'good', her parents would spend time with her; if she was 'bad', she would be scolded by the nurse maid. It was simple. However, once she grew up, things weren't so simple anymore.
1. Chapter 1

Careful

Summary:

She was everything her parents had wanted her to be. She did as she was supposed to because, in her tiny child's mind, she had worked something out: if she was 'good', her parents would spend time with her and she would be happy; if she was 'bad', she would be scolded by the nurse maid and she would be sad. It was simple enough. However, once the little girl grew up, things weren't so simple anymore.

A/N:

This Fanfic is based around chapter one of my Fanfic Brand New Eyes. So it's a prequel, a sequel and everything in between.

1: The Little Darling Girl

When she was born, they felt sure that she would be everything they wanted. She was the perfect weight; she was born on her due date: everything was going right. They were sure that this baby could fulfil all of their desires and achieve all of their aspirations.

The second they saw her face, they felt certain that she was everything they'd planned for a more. They were what you could call social climbers: they spent all their lives perfecting their appearances and thinking carefully about what they said, because they wanted to be invited to all the big parties; they wanted to be the centre of the innermost circle of aristocracy.

So a baby, of course, was essential. A girl was even better, because, though everybody melted at the sight of any small child, little girls were even cuter. And their baby was by far the cutest they had ever seen: she had round, pink cheeks; big, unusually blue eyes; and a single curl of golden hair on top of her head.

They named her Rosalie, because her tiny lips were the colour of the red roses in their garden, and because that name had the perfect amount of refinement, with just a touch of sexy. Because, even though their daughter was barely born, they knew she had to be sexy, because she had to marry a rich man from a respectable family. And, in the world they spent their time living in, a name was everything. Not just her surname, which was quite special: Rosalie had been born into the Hale family, who were well known in the area, because her father was very, very nearly the head of the bank. They also happened to be rolling in riches that they had inherited from her mother's Aunty Geraldine; riches that they planned to spend on pretty dresses and shoes and hair ribbons for Rosalie, because no little blonde baby was complete without beautiful clothes.

So, just days after Rosalie had been born, she was left alone in her parents' big manor house with the nurse maid caring for her, whilst her mother went out shopping and her father went to work. After all, he couldn't afford to miss a single day: he was very, very nearly the head of the bank, as he kept telling everyone.

It wouldn't unfair to say that Rosalie wasn't cared for. She was looked after, of course; she was fed and washed and dressed and tucked up in bed. She had no physical wants; that was for certain. However, emotionally, Rosalie was the most neglected little girl in the entire town. Her father never visited her in the vast nursery; her mother only visited once a day for about half an hour, maximum. And the nurse maid who looked after her, well, she wasn't exactly the nicest woman around. In fact, she was formidable and strict: she wore her thin, stringy black hair in a tight bun at the back of her head, and there were wrinkles beside her eyes and lips from years of glaring.

If little Rosalie cried, she would stuff a bottle in her mouth or change her nappy. She barely ever held the tiny baby, and, to anyone watching on, it would seem that the nurse maid despised her job and all children even more. That wasn't the case: Mildred, for that was her name, had merely hardened into a bitter woman after losing her whole family – which consisted of one loving husband; one set of young, bubbly twins; one little blonde five year old daughter; and one seven year old black haired boy – in a fire.

So it wasn't that she disliked children; it was just that she couldn't bear to let herself love them.

Rosalie's first party was two days after her first birthday. Her parents had Mildred comb the little girl's hair, which had grown almost to her shoulders in gorgeous waves, and tie it into two plaits with blue ribbons to match her eyes. Then, they had 'the little darling girl' (for that was what she had come to be known as) dressed up in her best dress, which was white with a delicate blue floral pattern all across it. On her feet they placed shiny blue shoes, and Rosalie was ready to be used as a conversation starter.

She was everything her parents had wanted her to be, and they couldn't stop beaming. She spoke the few words that she knew ('hello', 'please', 'thank you' and 'goodbye') at all the most appropriate moments, and she soon had every respectable man and woman at the party gushing over her. Rosalie couldn't walk yet, but she knew how to shake hands and which food utensil should be used when. She picked up names quickly, and her gaze never wandered around the room like she bored, which she most certainly was.

She did as she was supposed to because, in her tiny child's mind, she had worked something out: if she was 'good', her parents would spend time with her and they would smile and they would talk to her and she would be happy; if she was 'bad', she would be scolded by the nurse maid and put to bed early and she would be sad. It was simple enough.

However, once the little girl grew up, things weren't so simple anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Careful

A/N:

I can only apologise. I am so, so sorry. I haven't updated, ever. Sorry. But I'm writing loads more at the moment, so I'll try and do a few chapters for this fic. Sorrysorrysorry.

2: The Boy with the Scruffy Hair & The Brown Eyed Girl

Rosalie's little brother was born eighteenth months after her, on the twentieth of March, 1997. He was an underweight, premature baby, who very quickly sprouted a thick head of browny-red hair.

Rosalie, who had quite thin, but glossy, blonde hair, was fascinated by her little brother's hair. She didn't plait it, because, despite all the ribbons and hair accessories she had accumulated in her eighteen months of life, she wasn't particularly interesting in styling hair. Instead, she would just run her fingers through it. She liked it especially when the Nurse, Mildred, took Rosalie and her little brother out into the extensive grounds of their parents' manor house, because the sun would refract off the bronze spikes, kinks and curls, making it shine like strands of finely woven amber.

Rosalie's brother was called Edward: a name handed down from his father; a very respectable name, which gave the impression of a professional, sensible man.

Unfortunately, as the baby Edward had not yet been a man when his parents' named him, there was a risk that they would choose a name that would not fit the personality of his adult self. Because Edward, despite the plans his parents' were already laying out for him, would grow to have a character very similar to his hair: wild, unruly, but strangely beautiful in the right light.

Rosalie and Edward's little sister was born two whole years after Edward, in 1999. Her birthday was in early winter, a time when there is nothing special or extreme; a time when things look bare and weak, before the full icicled beauty of winter appears.

This baby – the last baby who would be born to the Hales – was named Isabella, but this name was quickly shortened to Bella, which means 'beautiful'. In some ways, she was: she was born with pearl-coloured skin and a delicate pink blush on her pale cheeks; her eyes were large, similar to Rosalie's, except they were brown instead of blue. Her lips, however, were disappointingly and boringly thin and pale, and her hair was nowhere near as glossy as Rosalie's or as thick as Edward's. Instead, she had thin, almost straggly, dark brown hair that hung limply over her face.

Her parents' hoped that her beauty would become more obvious as she grew older. Unfortunately, the only thing that would become more obvious was their disappointment in her and her appearance, which would, in turn, drive her to despise them and herself.

A/N:

Sorry it's so short... I'm gonna do another chapter now to make up for it.

Review please.


	3. Author's Note

Author's Note:

I'll keep this short: I'm done. I'm not going to be writing any of my twilight fanfics anymore, because I'm not interested in twilight anymore.

Basically, this is what happened: I'd already been tiring of twilight for a while – in fact, the fanfics had been my only link to the whole thing for a long time – and then I went to see Deathly Hallows Part 2 with my family. And I became obsessed. I remembered what I'd been missing for so long, and I went back to my childhood and Harry Potter. I went home and I re-read the whole series. I think I was half-way through Chamber of Secrets when I decided that I was going to become more obsessed with this than I ever was with twilight. And that's really saying a lot.

So, I write Harry Potter fanfics now, on my new account, ravenclawhalfbloodprince. I don't know if any of you will want to, but if you do, check out my new stuff. I'm also going to move some of my one-shots to my new accounts at some point.

That's about it. Sorry if you really liked this stuff or anything. Thanks for reading, and reviewing if you did. All of that really did mean a lot to me, honest. But I'm moving on to a Harry Potter era now. So, have fun reading whatever you read, guys.

Bye.


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